


The Bookworm and the Beast

by nicsnort



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Rape isn't Jonathan, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fear, Kidnapping, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-23 04:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20333914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicsnort/pseuds/nicsnort
Summary: Isabel Warren lived in small-town USA where nothing exciting ever happened. She worked as a librarian and spent her days dreaming of far off places but when she is stolen away in the night by a nefarious beast Isabel wishes she was home again. The beast won't let her go but slowly she comes to realize that there might just be a man behind the beast. ScarecrowxOCCompleted Story over on Fanfiction.net - same title same username - reposting here because why not.





	1. A Small Provincial Town

_ "No, no. I can't do it anymore. I know what that thing is for and I won't finish it!" _

_ "You have made a deal with the devil, no going back on it now." _

_ "But—that thing! The whole city would be destroyed! I have friends and all the citizens I can't put them in that—" _

_ "You seem to be forgetting about your daughter…how is she these days? She has not seen you since you moved to Gotham. I am sure you would both love if I brought you together again." _

_ "No! You leave her out of this! I'll do it! I'll do it! Just leave her alone!"_

* * *

"Morning Mr. Baker!" Isabel said waving at the plump man who sold delicious cream-filled donuts from his street stall outside his grocery store.

"Morning Isabel sure you won't have one?" He wafted a scrumptious smelling Bismarck towards her.

"Tempting but I'm on my diet, only one a week."

"Diet!" He exclaimed, "You're as thin as a rake!"

"An unhealthy diet is still unhealthy, Mr. Baker, I'll see you later!" Isabel waved goodbye. It was the same routine every morning, Mr. Baker just didn't see how she could be on a diet, but a life of fast food and sugary donuts just wasn't for her after seeing what the fattening food had done to her father's heart there was no way she was going down that path with her damning genetics. Mr. Baker would be surprised though to know that she actually wasn't that thin, she was just tall. At five foot nine and only 130 pounds it wasn't surprising she looked like a stick but was of a perfectly healthy size according to the BMI.

"Oi! Isabel!" Isabel turned towards the voice. Great, it was him.

"What do you want Gus?" She asked as he ran over to her.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked with a disgustingly cocky smile.

"Work. Same as every day."

"My girlfriend would never have to work so hard, I always provide for my little ladies." Gus stepped in front of her cutting off her path. "You know, you don't have to go to work today."

"Yes, I do Gus, why don't you go back to your girlfriends, I'm sure they're all missing you." Isabel sidestepped him and tried to walk away but Gus caught her by the wrist.

"Ah, come on baby, I can give you the time of my life if you let me."

"Gus," Isabel sighed, "the only reason you want me is because I keep ignoring you. Now go away, I'd rather date the scarecrows in the fields." Gus dropped her hand with a snarl and stormed away. He'd be back though; they played this game every day.

That seemed to be Isabel's life, whether it was Mr. Baker tempting her with a Bismarck or Gus crudely flirting with her, her life was the same every day. Nothing exciting ever happened in the small town in the center of the American midwest where she lived, let alone, to her. Nothing. It was just her and the books at the library.

The rest of Isabel's walk to the library, as it often was, was uneventful. She said hello to several more people and had a short conversation with Mrs. Flannery who was going all the way to Gotham City tomorrow to see her sister-in-law. It was half-past nine when she walked up the steps of the old library and unlocked the doors. She locked the doors behind her because the library didn't open until ten. Isabel made her way into the mechanical room that doubled as her office and flicked on the building's lights.

Built in the early 1900's the library was old and with the modern inventions of laptops and Kindles, the library hadn't had money for the renovations it sorely needed. They barely had any money for books, Isabel couldn't remember that last time she went book shopping for the library; it must have been last year, right after Mr. Donald had retired and left her in charge. If Gus really cared for her he'd give some money to the library for repairs and renovations.

Ever since he'd moved into back town two years ago he flirted with her nearly every day—if you could call his rude remarks flirting. He was the star quarterback during their high school years and had gone to play for Central City State then on to some semi-professional team where he sustained a knee injury that prevented him from playing again. Gus had returned and since then had enjoyed lording his “professional” football career, and all money, over them. He loved pretending to be a sportsman but he just liked to show off his gun and sword collection to the girls. For some reason, though he just couldn't settle for the buxom blondes and chased after her.

Isabel shook her head ridding mind of the thoughts of that repulsive man. Dropping her bag and light jacket she made her way to the front desk and turned on the computer. It would take several minutes for the computer to warm up enough for her to log on so she set about collecting the books that had been dropped off over the night. There were only three books: one on flowers that Mrs. Flannery had borrowed, a Romance from Mrs. Baker, and the third "The Kingdom" novel returned by Davy Johnson, the only high-schooler to still borrow books that weren't for assignments. Isabel checked them back in, three returned out of nine.

She scoffed, only six now, six she remembered when she was in school and the library was always out of the good books. Well, that was mainly because of her but still any summer entertainment that wasn't vandalism or under-age drinking for the children of the town was in the library. But oh, how times change. Laptops, TVs, MP3 players, and even electronic books had made good old fashioned libraries near obsolete. No one appreciated the plethora of information libraries held anymore.

"A shame," She muttered leaving the desk to put the books back on their appropriate shelves. Isabel didn't need to look at the codes on the books to know where they went she knew this library like it was her home. It nearly was in fact. If home was quantified by the number of hours a person spent in a place then the library would be almost tied to her house. As a child, and even now as an adult, Isabel pretty much lived in the library. She would sit amongst the musty shelves her head stuck in a book every day after school and during the summer.

Before she went back to the desk Isabel picked out several books to read during that day. Her fingers trailed along the books as she passed them trying to find ones she hadn't read in a while. "Morality in the Industrial Age", "Neither Here nor There", and ah this was one of her favorites. She pulled down a well-worn book and added to the pile in her arms. It was a romance novel written like a fairytale, it even had a Prince and an evil wizard. When she was younger she had always dreamed about being whisked away to a magical place by a handsome prince after he rescued her to keep her safe in his castle, but that was nearly half her lifetime ago. Time wears on and now at the ripe age of 34, Isabel had given up finding a prince, hell at the age of 34 she'd given up hope of finding a pauper that cared for her.

In all her years no man had ever been able to capture her attention as her books had. Perhaps it had been because she always had her head stuck in a book but she had never even noticed any men who tried to vie for her attention. Tallest in her class of 200 until 10th grade Isabel had always kept her head down as to not draw the stares of her classmates. Tall, thin, pale with inky black hair her Slavic heritage stood out against the Scandinavian of her town.

Isabel set the books down on the desk and logged on to the computer. A machine whirred and hissed as it processed the information. She didn't even know why she bothered with the old computer anymore so few books were checked out she didn't need to use the computer's check-out system, the only thing she did use it for was playing games of solitaire and mine-sweep every so often.

It was nearing 10 o'clock so Isabel unlocked the doors then sat back down and picked up her book. Two hours passed in complete silence allowing Isabel to get completely wrapped up in her book meaning that when the door to the library creaked open Isabel gasped in shock and nearly fell out of her chair.

"Oh. Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, no, it's okay; I just don't get a lot of people coming…" Isabel trailed off as she looked at the man. Isabel didn't know him. Isabel may keep her head down but in this small mid-western town everybody knew everybody. "Are you lost?"

"I do not think so. This is the Walberg Library, correct?"

"Yeah," Isabel looked the man over again. He was tall, thin, rather scruffy looking, and Isabel had no clue why an outsider would be at her library. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. Warren?"

"Oh!" Isabel cried, bending over the calendar on her desk, "you're Mr. Irving." She stood up and went around the desk holding out her hand. "I'm Isabel Warren. I'm sorry I forgot that today was today."

"Perfectly alright," Mr. Irving took her hand and shook it once.

"Shall we then," Isabel asked gesturing with her hand. Mr. Irving nodded and Isabel led him through the library. "When you showed interest in the books I took them off display and put them in the backroom." She opened the door and walked through turning on the light as she did. The first thing in the room was an ancient heater that had been broken for the past two years just another sign of the library's money troubles but with Mr. Irving here that would hopefully change.

"There we are," Isabel said pointing to the books piled neatly on top of a table by the holiday decorations. "A few of the bindings in the right pile were damaged but I mended them as best I could."

Mr. Irving picked up one of the books and ran his finger along the spine. "Well done," he said in a dry tone. He set down the old book and picked up another flipping gently through its pages. "And what are the conditions of the pages?"

"All mold-free, a few books have dog-eared pages but there is no real damage to any of them."

"Excellent. I would like to look them over if you don't mind."

"Of course, of course, I'll just be back at the desk if you need me." Isabel left the door open behind her and as she made her way slowly back to the front of the library she crossed her fingers. It looked as though Mr. Irving was indeed interested in purchasing the first edition novels that had sat useless in preservation cases near the rear of the library untouched ever since she could remember.

Back at her desk Isabel looked at herself in the dark screen of the computer's standby mode. She dusted off her blue peasant skirt and adjusted her white blouse undoing the top couple of buttons as she had read in a psychology book that men were more likely to buy from a sexual appealing woman and read as well that showing skin was sexually appealing. Isabel quickly considered putting her up but decided to leave the long black locks streaming down her back. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips bring colour to their paleness. There, now she was ready to make a deal.

Mr. Irving's footsteps could be heard walking along the worn carpeted aisles. Isabel leaned against her desk in what she conceived to be a flattering position. As Mr. Irving turned the corner he stopped at the sight of her and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Are you alright?" He asked looking over her odd position.

"Of course," Isabel stood up correctly slightly embarrassed. "What did you think about the books?"

"They are wonderful; you did an excellent job in repairing them. I'll take them all."

Isabel beamed. "Oh thank you, Mr. Irving!"

"Please call me Stephen."

"Stephen, should we talk price then?"

"Of course," Mr. Irving—Stephen ran a hand through his slightly shaggy hair, "perhaps, since after twelve, we could grab lunch and talk?"

A real blush crossed Isabel's cheeks. "Sure, that sounds great. I'll just lock up then and…yeah."

Stephen's smile was slightly crooked and Isabel blushed even deeper. She nearly tripped while hurrying to the back office to grab her bag deciding to forgo her jacket as the late summer air had warmed up considerably. Isabel also grabbed her handmade sign that said 'Out to Lunch' in large yellow letters and in small parentheses underneath '(though I doubt anyone will read this)'. Smiling she rejoined Stephen by the desk.

"The diner down the street has a lovely lunch menu."

"Sounds excellent." As they left Isabel locked the doors and hung the sign on the nail haphazardly pounded in.

"'I doubt anyone will read this'?"

"Just a little joke, the library doesn't get many visitors outside of the school year. So I put up that on the sign to see if anyone would see and comment. It's been on there six years and no one has said anything." Stephen hmm-ed but didn't say anything.

The walk to the diner was quick and they were seated even quicker. The diner was the last family-owned restaurant in town and like the library was sorely in need of renovations to update the 1980's equipment and 1970's décor.

"What can I get for you Ms. Warren and…"

"Stephen Irving," Isabel provided.

"Stephen," a large smile split across the waitress Carol's face. "Our specials this afternoon are the Half-way Home Burger and the Turkey Salad. Would you like a moment to decide?"

"Yes," Stephen said picking up the menu in front of him.

"Alrighty then," Carol said her grin widening. As she left she winked at Isabel and as she crossed the diner Isabel saw Carol take out her phone and start texting.

"What is the Half-way Home Burger?" Stephen asked her over the top of his menu.

"It's so good it will take you half-way home to Heaven," Isabel responded almost at once as she, and everyone else who ate there, knew the restaurant's description by heart. "It's their specialty: a cheeseburger with three different kinds of cheese, bacon, kosher pickles, onions, and secret sauce, which is really just a type of homemade ketchup."

"Kosher pickles and bacon on the same burger? That's not very, well, kosher." Stephen said with a smile.

"I know. It is really good though."

"It sounds like it will take you halfway to Heaven by giving you a heart attack." Isabel smiled awkwardly and returned to looking at her menu. It took Stephen several more minutes to decide during which a group of Carol's friends had arrived and had taken the table across the diner from them, the one that had a perfect sight their own.

"Carol," Isabel said waving the waitress over from talking with her friends.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I'll have a Turkey Salad."

"And I'll have the Grilled Chicken Sandwich."

"And anything to drink?

"Just water." Isabel and Stephen said at the same time. Carol smirked and the group of teenage girls across the diner giggled.

"Okay coming right up."

"So what's up with her?" Stephen asked putting his menu back in it holder near the window.

"Well, you know...small town, new face, recluse librarian having lunch with said new face. There's not much to do here so people gossip."

"I see so they believe that we are…" Stephen gestured between the two of them with his pointer finger.

"Most likely."

"You say there is not much to do here but I saw that your library was remarkably well stocked—"

"Haha!" Isabel laughed loudly and quickly covered her mouth to muffle the sound. "Sorry, but these girls going to the library outside of school!? You have to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry I didn't realize your library was in such dire straits."

Isabel stopped laughing. "Well that's why I'm selling the books, if I can use the money to get some new equipment, new books then maybe it can survive for another few years."

"And after that?"

"I'll think of something to keep it going for a few more years."

"You are very dedicated to that library."

"Well it was my whole childhood and it is my life now, I can't see my life without it."

"Perhaps we should start discussing prices then?"

"Naturally."

Isabel and Stephen began naming prices it was surprisingly easy to come to an agreement as Stephen kept naming figures that were much higher than Isabel expected. It seemed odd how comfortable Stephen was throwing out high numbers but then again he seemed like a man who valued the written word and perhaps her story of the struggling library had opened his heart and wallet. The negotiations were over and the check written before their food even arrived. With nothing much else to do, they turned their conversation to what Isabel knew best: books.

"I've always thought Lovecraft was always a much better horror writer than King. Sure King has much more variety and more books, but Lovecraft's turn of phrase and use imagery without ever giving us a clear image is much more thrilling." Isabel said taking a sip of her water.

"Agreed but do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why, why is Lovecraft with his half-formed figures scarier than King?"

Isabel was quiet for a second. She never really thought about it, horror wasn't her preferred genre. "Because…because as Lovecraft said, "the most powerful emotion man has is fear and the fear of the unknown is the most powerful fear of all". Lovecraft's oddly shaped demented creatures, unseen wraiths, and impossible to conquer scenarios leave readers with their deepest held fear and a feeling of hopelessness."

Stephen smiled and took a large bite of his salad. "Very good, very, very good."

"The salad or my answer?"

Stephen smirked he looked pleased but somehow the pleasure never reached his ice-blue eyes. "Both."

"Well that's excellent to hear," Carol said popping out of nowhere. "So, Stephen, Ms. Warren can I interest you in any desert? We have a lovely chocolate cake serves two…"

"I'm fine," Stephen said, "Isabel?"

"I'm good too."

"Alrighty, I'll just bring the bill then."

"Thank you, Carol." When Carol returned with the receipt instead of placing it down on the table she handed it to Stephen. He looked at it with a slightly raised eyebrow. Isabel tut-ed and snatched bill from Carol's hand.

"As much as you love gossip, do not make assumptions," she said dismissively reaching for her wallet.

"And for the conversation, my treat," Stephen said taking the bill from Isabel.

"Now see here Mr. Irving just because my library is in trouble doesn't mean I need help to pay my way in the world."

"Can't a man pay for the lunch of a beautiful woman?" Isabel could feel her face flame red and Carol squealed. Taking advantage of Isabel's flustered state he whipped out his card and hand the bill and the plastic to Carol who scampered away with it grinning.

Unable to get her burning face under control Isabel stood quickly. "Excuse me." She muttered and ran into the bathroom. Once inside Isabel splashed cold water on her face.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She scolded as she rubbed her cheeks vigorously. "You'll never see him again, Isabel, get a grip. He's just being nice." Isabel sighed and dried her face. The redness had gone down as she was ready to face Ste—Mr. Irving again. As she opened the bathroom door she heard a soft "oh" and the scurrying of feet. Isabel rolled her eyes when she saw Carol cleaning the table next to the bathroom far too haphazardly.

She made her way back to the table but Mr. Irving wasn't there. "Where did Mr. Irving go?" Isabel asked the girls who had been watching them.

"He just stepped outside to make a call." One said.

"Thank you." Isabel gathered her purse from the table and stepped outside looking for Mr. Irving.


	2. In the Dark of the Night

_ "Good day, Mr. Warren." _

_ "You! I'm doing what you want, why are you calling?" _

_ "Oh, just a friendly little reminder to keep up the good work, after all, you do not want anything to happen to your daughter do you?" _

_ "But you said-! No! You can't please." _

_ "Does she take after her mother? She must, that long dark hair, rich brown eyes, quite beautiful, I must say I cannot really see the resemblance between you two." _

_ "You bastard, if you harm her—." _

_ "Do not worry Mr. Warren I will take good care of every hair on her pretty little head." _

* * *

Isabel found Mr. Irving a block and a half down the street. He was just hanging up as she approached.

"Usually a person skips out before they pay."

"Well, I'm not a normal person."

"Obviously, should we move the books then?"

"Of course, I'll bring my car around while you box up the books?"

"Sure thing." They walked back to the library together diverging when they reached the alley that led to the back car lot. Once inside Isabel hurriedly made her way to the boiler room and packed the books into two crates. Isabel lifted one of the boxes and nearly dropped it, setting it down quickly she frowned at the box.

"That's heavier than I thought it would be…ok, let's try this again." This time Isabel was successful and made it all the way to the front desk before setting it down with a relieved sigh. At that moment the library door opened and Mr. Irving came in.

"The other box is still back there if you could grab it."

"Of course."

"It's quite heavy, careful," Isabel said as he walked down the aisle. Half minute later Isabel had to hold in a giggle as she heard a grunt, the cry of "shit", and then the thump of the box landing back on to the table. There was a sigh another grunt and soon Mr. Irving was coming around the corner. Although he was trying to make it appear as if the box was nothing Isabel could see a line of sweat starting on his brow. She lifted her own box to her chest so her eyes were just peeking out from over the top and they cautiously made their way out the door and down the steps. Isabel was almost to Mr. Irving's old brown sedan when the weight of the box disappeared from her arms.

"I got that for you, Isabel," said the familiar voice of Gus. "No need for a woman to do all this lifting."

"Oh um, thank you, Gus. It's just going to that car though."

"Okay, open the trunk then."

"The backseat actually," Mr. Irving said from behind his box, "it's already unlocked." Gus started as though seeing the other man for the first time, which considering how dense Gus was that might have been true. Isabel opened the car door and Gus slid the box inside with Mr. Irving following suit.

"So Isabel who's this?" Gus said trying to seem more intimidating by crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

"Gus this is Stephen Irving, he just bought the library's vintage book collection."

"Why are you selling books?"

"Well like I've said, at every town meeting and fundraising event that I've held, our library is in desperate need of money. These books are very valuable and by selling them we'll be able to do a few renovations and get some newer books to bring in more people."

"These old things can't be that pricey I mean come on," Gus picked up one of the books from the crates and paged through it. "The pages are all yellow; it smells funny, and the print off-center, besides who reads books anyways?"

"I do." Isabel and Mr. Irving said at the same time.

"And given the dullness in your eyes, you would do well to read some. Perhaps at your local library, I happened to see they have a good selection, might I suggest 'Winnie the Pooh'?" Isabel gasped and hid her smile with a hand while Gus simply stood there with his mouth hanging open slightly. She looked at Mr. Irving who was smirking with a condescending glint in his eyes. Then before Isabel could react Mr. Irving was on the ground his nose bleeding.

"Gus!" She cried in shock as he grabbed Mr. Irving by the collar of his sweater vest and pulled him to his feet before slamming him against his car.

"Nobody talks to me like that, got it, nerd!" Gus shook the taller man but Mr. Irving never lost his smirk.

"Gus! Stop that or I'm calling the cops on you." Isabel said sternly taking out her cellphone. Gus stopped and slowly let go of Mr. Irving. "Good now get out of here and don't you even think about coming back."

Gus stormed away hitting a nearby tree in anger as he left.

"Are you alright?" Isabel asked rushing up to Mr. Irving very concerned.

"Yes, just a bloody nose."

"Thank goodness, I would hate for something to happen to you because of his stupid behavior." Mr. Irving wasn't really paying attention as he was focused on trying to get the blood to stop flowing. "There's a bathroom in the library you can use to clean up."

"Thank you." Isabel led him inside guiding him by the arm as he had his face up in the air.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hold your head forward not back," Isabel said as she opened the doors to the library.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it has something to do with the drainage of blood."

"Okay then, I'll take your advice." Mr. Irving tilted his head forward as he went inside the small unisex bathroom. From outside Isabel heard the tap water run and a few minutes later Mr. Irving stepped back outside with only a couple smudged drops of blood on his sweater vest to show that the incident had even taken place.

"All better?"

"Yes, thank you." They walked back to Mr. Irving's car in silence and Isabel was rather disappointed that their time together was ending. She had very much enjoyed Mr. Irving's company he was wonderfully intelligent and well-read, Isabel couldn't remember a time when had such an in-depth conversation about literature.

"It was lovely meeting you Stephen, thank you, for what you have done."

"Of course, it was wonderful meeting you as well. Perhaps you would like to keep in contact? I know I would enjoy talking to you some more about the classic authors."

"I would enjoy that very much, Stephen."

"Excellent, goodbye, Isabel."

"Bye." Isabel waved Stephen off before heading back into the library.

That night Isabel sat on her couch with a steaming cup of tea and the television tuned to the local news. She took a sip of the Earl Grey and smiled thinking about the day. It had been a good day by all accounts, it had been completely different than her usual day and that, she believed, was a very good thing. Isabel wished she could have more different days especially if they involved Stephen. She blushed slightly at the thought of the man it would be an understatement if Isabel said she had enjoyed the man's company.

Her eyes wandered to her desktop computer that sat in the corner of the living room. Maybe he had emailed her? Maybe she should email him? Ask him how the drive back was; apologize again for Gus, anything to keep up a conversation. Isabel was halfway to her computer when she froze. This wasn't like her. She was never this forward or pushy. What was happening to her? Was one different day so much of an upheaval that she had this sudden shift in personality? No, Isabel never did anything bold, she just kept her nose in a book. She should wait for him to contact her. After all, she didn't want to seem desperate.

Isabel sat back on the couch and drank some more of her tea. She would let him contact her first. After all, she had a comfortable everyday life and there was no need to have it thrown out of whack by a man. Even if that man was incredibly intelligent, witty, and rather good looking. Her life was fine as it currently was. She lived in the same house her entire life surrounded by books and cornfields.

The house had been her father's, well technically it still was as his name was on the deed, but he had left it to her when he had moved to Gotham City in the hope of selling some of his inventions. It was several months since she had seen him and when she thought about it he hadn't called her in almost two weeks. Deciding she might as well do one thing differently tonight she picked up her phone and dialed her father's number.

It rang several times before her father answered. "Hello?" His voice was shaking as though he was scared of who might be calling.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Isabel! Thank goodness you're alright!"

"Of course, are you Dad? You sound really shook up."

"No, no I'm fine; I just had a rough day."

"Okay, I'm glad it's nothing…we haven't talked in a while how's business? Have you found any buyers yet?"

"A couple, I was actually commissioned by someone a few weeks ago, that's why I haven't called I've been too busy."

"That's great Dad!"

"Yeah. So how are you? Library still keeping afloat?"

"I'm doing great actually, today was really nice. I finally sold some of those vintage books the library has to a guy who gave me a really good price on all of them."

"That's good."

"I know he was a really great guy too, we had lunch together and a wonderful conversation about novels, mainly horror genre but we enjoyed it so much we're going to stay in contact."

"Horror genre?" Her father's voice was quavering again.

"Yeah, Stephen is really well-read, we talked about the differences between Lovecraft and King, it was wonderful…" Isabel trailed off at the sound of the doorbell. "Hang on dad there's someone at the door." She went over to the window and peered outside. "Must have been a prank there's no one there."

"Isabel listen to me you have to get out of there now!" Her father's voice was suddenly panicky, "Leave just leave, get in your car and drive, go to the city or something. Just get out of town."

"What? Why? Dad, you're making no sense."

"Please, sweetheart, just listen to me. This is all my fault, please, just—" Her father's voice was cut off as the phone line went dead. It wasn't just the phone Isabel quickly realized the lights and the air conditioning had died as well. Her power had gone out; it wasn't unusual this time of year as the old generator could only take so much. Isabel hung up the phone and went to slip on her shoes but then a noise caused her to freeze. It was a slight scratching on the patio door. Isabel turned around quickly but nothing was there. Then suddenly another scratch but this time the sound was so much clearer coming from the kitchen.

_ "Get out of there now!" _ Her father's words echoed back to her. Isabel's heart was pounding in her chest now. Breath coming in panicked bursts Isabel slipped on her shoes hurriedly.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Isabel screamed as the force of the knocking shook the old wooden door. Grabbing the umbrella she kept by the door she threw open the door swinging her makeshift weapon wildly. There was no one out there though. Isabel looked around seeing nothing besides knee-high corn and the flickering lights of Mr. Keller's farmhouse down the road. The umbrella in her hands was shaking violently as she peeked around the corner of her house to see if anyone was there.

"Gus! Is this you? Show yourself you coward!" Nothing but the light summer breeze making her skirt brush against her legs. "That's it I'm calling the police!"

Isabel turned around to go back inside and ran right into a tall hard something. She went to pull away but the something wrapped its arms around her body pressing her close to it. Screaming Isabel pounded her hands against its chest but it did not flinch; she looked up and was greeted by a horrible visage. A twisted gaping maw turned up in a cruel mockery of a smile and mad piercing eyes whose gaze shook her to the core petrifying her. The beast's breath came out in long rattles, it loosened its grip on her but Isabel was too terrified to move. A raspy chuckle issued somewhere from its core jolting Isabel into motion. She went to run but the monster grabbed her arm and pulled her against it again this time her back was against its chest. Its tall lean form seemed to envelop her as one of its claws clamped something over her mouth and nose. Isabel began to struggle as drawing breath became difficult.

"Shh, shh," the creature hissed, "just relax and breathe." Isabel's head was starting to spin and her eyes were growing heavy. If the beast hadn't been holding her she would have fallen to the ground but with its arms wrapped around her, she fell against its chest unconscious.

* * *

Karloff Warren stood in the middle of his apartment his hand clenched tightly around the phone. Isabel was in danger and it was entirely his fault. He had taken the contract without knowing who his sponsor was and now his daughter was in peril. What would Scarecrow do to his little Bell? He could only imagine the terror she would experience. Would he just scare his daughter? Kill her? Or, god forbid, follow through on his original threat and bring her to Gotham?

No, his little girl wasn't prepared for the city not for a city like Gotham. She'd never been to a big city before, the state capital of their forgotten mid-west state didn't count Des Moines wasn't a city like Gotham. His innocent naïve Isabel couldn't survive in this world especially with a man—no—monster like Scarecrow.

The phone rang in his hands causing him to drop it in shock. "Isabel!?" He asked picking up the phone quickly.

"Try again."

"You bastard! What have you done to my daughter!?"

"Your daughter? Oh yes, you mean the luggage in the trunk. Well, I would not worry too much about her right now unless someone rear-ends me of course." Mr. Warren's mouth opened several times like a fish, unable to say anything. "I see I must have caught you at a bad time. Do not worry Mr. Warren you will be seeing your daughter soon." The phone went dead and the distraught father fell against the wall in horror.


	3. The Deal and the Devil

Her nose itched. Isabel went to scratch her nose but her arm was too heavy to move, she tried the other one but it refused to move as well. She must have slept on them wrong. Slowly waking up Isabel realized her mouth was extremely dry almost like someone had shoved cotton balls in it. After working up some saliva to wet her mouth Isabel decided it was time to open her eyes and greet the day. Slowly she opened her eyes sunlight shone through the window lighting up the motes of dust floating in the air. Isabel blinked sitting up her gaze scanning the room disbelievingly. She blinked again. Isabel blinked one more time and then she screamed.

Her eyes flitted wildly around the strange room. The moth-eaten curtains barely covering a boarded up window, the yellowed peeling wallpaper, and the rough wooden door with a brand new lock, all of them terrified her. Isabel launched herself out of the bed and to the door banging on it with all her might.

"Hello!? Is anyone out there!? Help!" She yelled banging on the door over and over again. It could have been five minutes or an hour she didn't know but when her voice finally gave out and she pulled away from the door her hands were covered in cuts and splinters. Tears pouring down her face Isabel slumped down on the bed. It was then that she noticed the bedside table with a glass of clear pristine water sitting in the center and note. Eyeing the water suspiciously she picked up the note.

_ 'You are dehydrated drink the water.' _

It took Isabel several times of reading the note for it to finally register and she crumpled it up throwing it away from her. The noted seemed to have sobered her up, no longer crying Isabel took another look around the room. It was just as worn down and dilapidated as she first thought. Mold crept along the edges of the walls and several spider webs sat in the corners. A musty smell permeated the room as though it had not been used for a long time. It was a small room just over 10X10 feet by her guess and perhaps even that was generous.

Isabel sighed in desperation and the rush of air over her vocal cords reminded her how thirsty she was. Her eyes flitted back to the glass of water. It looked so good with the condensation running down the sides and pool at the bottom of the glass. Hesitantly she picked it up as though simply touching it would cause something to happen. Now that glass was in her hand she could not resist the cool water within. She downed it in several large gulps feeling immediately better. Setting the glass back down Isabel stood and walked over to the window.

Although it was boarded up there were a few small cracks that allowed light to shine through. Isabel pressed her eye against the largest of these gaps trying to find out where she was. The buildings outside the window looked just at rundown as the room she was in. All the windows in the building across from her were boarded up as well indicating to Isabel that this was an abandoned area. It would certainly explain the poor state of things and why no one seemed to have heard her scream. Looking down Isabel concluded she must be quite a ways up, at least seven floors. Other than that she could see nothing, the buildings blocked everything else. For all, she knew she could be in Des Moines, Chicago, Detroit or anywhere else that had old abandoned apartment buildings.

Sitting back on the bed Isabel immediately jumped back up again at the thump of footsteps coming from beyond the door. They stopped right outside and Isabel froze. She wanted to call out, to ask for help, to ask why but her vocal cords seemed cemented shut. There was a soft click of the lock and Isabel wanted to hide behind the door so she could jump out and attack whoever entered, she wanted to do something smart. But all she could do was stand there, shaking like a dumb animal, while the handle turned and the door opened.

It was tall and thin yet even so the beast seemed to fill the entire doorway. She remembered him from when he attacked her, his claws, his hissing voice, yet in the light, she could tell that the beast was human. The monster took a few steps inside shutting the door behind it. The creature's dress shoes clicked against the pitted wooden floor and for every step the beast took towards her, Isabel took one back. Soon though she was pressed against the wall with nowhere else to go. The monster stopped only an inch from her. It stood there, towering over her, asserting its dominance.

She stared at its chest refusing to do anything let alone look at its hideous face. As though the beast could sense her defiance one of its claws reached up and grabbed her chin forcing her to meet its ice-blue eyes. The terrified tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes were threating to fall as the coldness in those eyes started to tear at her soul. Its eyes burrowed into hers as if the beast was waiting for the tears to fall. As frightened as Isabel was she could not allow it that victory over her. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head up in boldness.

The skin around the creature's eyes moved but whether if it was smiling or raising its eyebrows she could not tell. Isabel let out a little squeak as the hand on her chin suddenly moved to wrap around her throat and slamming her head against the wall. The tears poured from her eyes, she wasn't sobbing or screaming she was far too fearful of what the monster would do for that nonsense. The monster leaned its head down to hers the harsh burlap of its face scratching her skin. Isabel closed her eyes in terror not wanting to see what the beast would do next.

"Isabel," it said in a soft sing-song voice. Isabel trembled and the creature's chest shook with dark laughter. "You will come with me Isabel quietly and without fuss. Any attempt to escape and you will never make it out of here alive. Do you understand?" Isabel nodded still unable to speak for fear.

"Good." The creature removed his claw from her throat and took something from his pocket. He pressed it into her hands and then took a few steps back watching her intensely. Trying to control her shaking Isabel looked at the thing he had given her. It was made of heavy dark cloth. Unfolding the material she saw it was a drawstring bag. Nothing was inside and she looked up at the beast waiting for it to tell her what to do a pit forming in her stomach at the thought of what it might be for. It moved one of its claws a simple upwards motion confirming Isabel's dread. With a strained gulp, she opened the bag and slipped in on to her head.

The bag's heavy material blocked out all light and made it difficult to breathe. Standing there in the dark Isabel tried as hard as she could to not shake as the creature approached her again. She could feel the heat from its claws as they reached up and tightened the drawstring around her neck. A single claw wrapped around her upper arm and led her out of the room.

Even with the bag muffling her senses Isabel tried desperately to gather as much information as she could. She tried to memorize each twist and turn they took but her panic kept getting in her way making her sense of direction useless.

"Stairs." The beast said coolly. Isabel made it down three flights of steps without any trouble but then her foot caught on something causing her arm to jerk out of the monster grip and for her to tumble down the next flight. She hit the bottom of the staircase with a loud thump. Her face hit the wall and Isabel felt a burst of blood spray from her nose. Suddenly she was wrenched to her feet by the monster. She could feel the creature staring down at her and tears threatened to stream from her eyes again from both pain and terror. The beast's grip on her relaxed slightly and Isabel's heartbeat began to inch its way out of her throat. Isabel felt the claws of the beast on her wrist pulling it forward and placing it on a railing.

"Move," it growled now standing to the side of her instead of behind. With the rail to guide her Isabel had no more trouble going down the final flights. When they reached the bottom the beast tugged harshly on her arm dragging her to the side and out what sounded to be a heavy metal door. Wherever she was the air was humid and smell of rotten fish but there was no noise around her, no sound to indicate human life apart from them. Then Isabel heard the click of a car door opening and she was shoved into the back seat of a car.

"Stay down or I will put you in the trunk." The door slammed behind her nearly hitting her feet and there were a few seconds quiet while the monster walked around to the driver's side when Isabel contemplated getting out and running. As the other door opened though she lost her nerve. The seats of the car shook as the car rumbled into life and they took off down the street.

Now without the constant eyes of the monster upon her Isabel pinched the bridge of her nose as it was still leaking blood, it didn't feel broken but if the throbbing was any guide she'd have a nasty bruise across her nose and right cheek. Isabel licked her lips trying to wipe away the blood that painted them with her tongue but all it did was smear it. Cautious not to the draw attention of her captor Isabel used the inside of the cloth bag to remove the blood and saliva. For a few seconds, her hand lingered on the string of the bag.

"Don't." The beast commanded and Isabel jerked her hand away. Her heart had jumped back into her throat at the sound of the beast's voice but as her pulse slowed she realized that the creature's voice had sounded different. Instead of being a raspy hiss the beast sounded like a normal man, the tone was harsh and cruel but it was still that of a man, the hiss was gone. Although her hands itched to peek from under the hood Isabel was able to restrain herself for the journey.

When the car engine was shut off Isabel was pulled roughly out of the back seat and dragged by her wrists through the echoing building. Suddenly she was pushed down on to a chair and the beast was tying her wrists to the chair's arms. The beast's shoes clicked on the hard floor as he walked away from her as soon as she could no longer hear his footsteps Isabel began to struggle against the ropes. She was tied too tightly though and soon two steps of footsteps were headed her way causing her to freeze and sit up straight in an attempt to look innocent.

"Where is she!?" One of the men shouted. Isabel gasped she knew that voice.

"Dad?" She cried out.

"Isabel!"

"Dad!" Isabel heard her father's heavy footsteps pounding on the ground as he ran towards her.

"Not any closer Mr. Warren." The beast said walking behind Isabel and placing a hand on the crux between her neck and shoulders. "I said you may  _ see _ your daughter not touch her."

"Dad! Oh my god! Is that really you!? What's going on!?"

"Quiet." The beast said coolly squeezing her flesh tightly.

"At least let me see her face. Please let me look at my daughter."

"Very well." His hand moved from her shoulder and undid the string, then his trailed his claws up her face and whipped the bag from her head. Isabel shut her eyes at the sudden brightness but she heard her father's sharp intake of breath.

"What have you done to her!? You said she was unharmed."

"She had a little spill on stairs it was nothing I did I assure you."

"Bullshit you bastard."

"It's true Dad." Isabel didn’t want her father to get in more trouble than they were in.

"You see. Now, Mr. Warren, I hope you understand the situation. You sabotage the machine, you go to the police, you do anything to upset me and I will send your daughter's mind into a pool of terror until she shatters. If you complete the project without trouble I will return her to you in one piece."

"I-I understand, please don't hurt my daughter."

"That is all up to your choices now; so off you trot, Mr. Warren, I must take Rapunzel back to her tower." The beast put the bag over Isabel's head and synched it roughly.

"Don't worry Isabel," her father said his voice trembling, "I'll finish quick and get you out of there safe and sound."

"The machine is not going to build itself."

"Yes, yes, I'm going." Isabel heard her father shuffle away and as soon as the footfalls had faded the beast untied her from the chair. She went quietly back to the car and lay in the back seat without protest. Her mind was reeling she was being held hostage so her father could work on some machine? What happened to selling his inventions to Wayne Industries and the like? Why was he working for this monster? By the look of her father whoever the beast was and whatever he was working on was causing him a great deal of stress. His eyes were sunken and ringed with dark circles and his skin was baggy as though he had been rapidly losing weight. He just looked so worn, so defeated and when she had looked into his terrified eyes she had seen no hope in them.

A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye. What was going to happen to her?


	4. Curiosity Killed the Cat

The car slowed to a stop but Isabel only became aware of their journey's end when the car door opened. Isabel was silent as the beast pulled her from the car and into the building. They went up several flights of stairs and the monster pulled her through a doorway. Under the hood, Isabel furrowed her brows as she felt the floor change from hardwood to soft carpet. That wasn't there before. The floor changed again into linoleum tiles and Isabel was thrust into a hard wooden seat. Isabel waited expecting to be tied to it but the ropes never came. She heard the beast moving in the background, picking things up and setting them back down. Suddenly Isabel felt the beast's presence behind bending over her like a spider.

"Isabel," the creature hissed his voice having lost all its human qualities. "You know why you are here, yes?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"B-because you want Dad to build something for you, something bad which is why you need to use me for leverage over him."

"Good, now understand I have leverage over you as well." Isabel stiffed as something small and sharp was pressed against her neck. "Do you feel that? Just a small amount of the toxin in this syringe is enough to send grown men into a fit of terror for weeks, a little bit more and it destroys their minds. If you try to run away or call for help your father will receive enough of this to cripple your entire town. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes." Isabel's voice cracked and a fearful tear ran down her cheek to the base of her neck.

"Do not worry you are not in danger yet," the beast said removing the needle and walking away from her. "And if you and your father follow the rules you will not be."

The sound of running water behind her caused Isabel's throat to clench in thirst. Something clinked as it was set down in front of her on what must have been a table. Water on tap, a table, linoleum tiles, was she in a kitchen?

The beast set something else in front of her and moved to the side. "Remove the hood."

Isabel's hands shook as she untied the string and removed the hood. In front of her on the table sat a small plate of bread, cheese, carrots, and an apple along with a glass of water. She looked up at the monster seated across from her his cold blue eyes shining out from behind his burlap face.

"Eat." Hands still shaking Isabel picked up a slice of cheese and bit off a small corner. Isabel swallowed the cheese with a large gulp the weight of the beast's eyes made it difficult to chew. She took another slightly larger bite and then her hunger got the better of her and she popped the whole thing in her mouth. Isabel cleared the plate quickly until all she was left with was a half-empty glass of water and the apple. The entire time she was eating the beast's eyes had not moved from her. He seemed to be observing her his cruel eyes taking note of every move she made.

Isabel took a bite of the apple now observing him in return. As Isabel had noticed before the beast was very tall and very thin causing his ragged brown suit to sag around him like it was on a hanger. The beast claws, or more appropriately hands, were covered in dark brown leather gloves that clung tightly to his long bony fingers. Around his neck hung a thin rope that was tied into a noose, the noose is what seemed to hold his face in place. Isabel could not call it a mask; the burlap sack seemed too much a part of the beast for that. The face still held that stitched mockery of a smile that was as twisted as the rope he wore. The beast showed no skin except the little that was visible around his icy eyes.

"Go ahead, ask." The beast said sounding almost entertained as Isabel's eyes meet his.

"W-who are you?"

The monster chuckled and stood up causing Isabel to shrink back into her chair. "Not the question I was expecting and I am slightly disappointed that you do not know."

"I-I'm sorry what question were you expecting?"

"Do not be sorry, child, it only means you are not like the lab specimens I collect, they usually ask "Why are you doing this?" Such an idiotic question. Why, indeed?"

"Lab specimens?" Isabel asked her voice cracking with fright.

"Yes! I am a scientist! I study the deep, dark recesses of the mind!" The beast cried his tone becoming manic, "Where fear lurks around every corner and drives us back to our beds like children! Perhaps now who know who I am, child?"

"I-I-I-no."

"No!?" The beast grabbed her upper arms and dragged her from her chair. "I am the Scarecrow! The God of Fear! The Lord of Despair!" The glass of water fell over spilling the rest of its contests as the beast slammed Isabel against the table leaning over her his eyes boring into hers. "All cower and tremble before me!"

Too frightened for words Isabel acted in defensive instinct and raised her knee sharply into Scarecrow's gut. Scarecrow bent over slightly in pain but he was too used to the Batman's punches to let go of Isabel. Isabel whimpered as the Scarecrow bent her further over the table his icy eyes now aflame with anger. His hand moved quickly wrapping itself in her hair he jerk her up and dragged her harshly out of the room. Tears poured down Isabel's face as she tried desperately to keep up. Up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway Isabel was led until Scarecrow pushed open a door and threw her inside. The door slammed behind her and Isabel heard the lock click into place. Isabel pounded on the door even though she knew it would not open. When tears could no longer flow and her arms became limp Isabel collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

Isabel was grateful for yet at the same time hated the gap in the boarding on her window as it allowed for her to mark the passage of time. One week had passed since Scarecrow had locked her in the room. One week of never leaving the room, not even to go to the bathroom, Scarecrow had left her a bucket in which to defecate; at least he was kind enough to empty it. She only saw him twice a day, once in the morning when he would bring her breakfast and once in the evening for dinner. However, it wasn't the bucket, the scraps for meals, or even going without a shower that was driving her insane. It was a lack of books. Every day since she had learned to read Isabel had, had a book with her at all times. Every spare moment would be spent reading and now with nothing to occupy her brain Isabel had been reduced to a complete mess. She had taken to counting the most ridiculous things to keep her brain busy, the grooves on the ceiling, the lines on pinstripe wallpaper, the number of pinky widths the room was.

On the morning of the seventh day, Isabel was in the midst of counting the weaves on her blanket when she heard the lock click. Isabel stood quickly, breakfast had already been delivered, why was the door opening so soon? The door creaked open and Isabel clenched at her skirt defensively. Scarecrow stood in the doorframe staring at her.

"Come." He turned sharply and Isabel hurried after him. Scarecrow led her down a flight of stairs and into what Isabel assumed to be the same carpeted apartment they were in the first day. He stopped outside a small door and opened it gesturing inside. Isabel peeked inside and instantly smiled. It was a bathroom. Derelict perhaps but it had a sink, a toilet, and, heavens be praised, a shower. Disbelievingly she stepped inside and Scarecrow shut the door behind her.

"One hour," she heard through the door. Still, in happy silence Isabel nodded even though he could not see her and began to strip. She left her clothes in a pile on the floor. Turning the slightly rust knob the showerhead sputtered to life. As Isabel waited for the water to warm she brushed her teeth with the toothbrush that was sitting on the counter, hopefully, it was for her to use and not Scarecrow's. Steam began to seep from the shower and Isabel spat out the last of the toothpaste then stepped inside.

Isabel sighed as the water ran across her skin. It felt so good that her knees nearly gave out in pleasure. She let herself soak for a few minutes allowing the water to wash away the soreness in her muscles. Isabel ran her hands along her sides and lower back gently working out some of the knots. Soft moans fell from her lips and she closed her eyes allowing her brain to forget for a few moments that she was being held captive. A harsh knock on the door brought her back to reality though.

"Yes?" She asked sticking her head out from behind the curtain and hoping that the Scarecrow hadn't decided to go back on his promise of one hour.

"Towels." The door clicked opened and a hand holding two large towels came through and deposited them on the floor.

"Thank you," Isabel said as the hand disappeared. Scarecrow shut the door without a response.

Figuring she should probably start washing as she had no idea if Scarecrow let her really have a whole hour Isabel picked up the cheap waterfall scented shampoo. Isabel lathered up her long hair in parts as it was easier to manage that way, rinsed her hair and then repeated. Once she had decided her hair was clean Isabel moved on to the body wash because a monster like Scarecrow naturally did not have any conditioner. Popping open the lid to the unscented wash Isabel realized that there was no body-scrubber in the shower. She poked her head out looking around the bathroom for something to use and spotted a face towel on the counter. Grateful for her long arms Isabel reached out and picked it up easily. The towel was thin and scratchy but it would make a suitable body scrub.

Isabel poured a highly liberal amount of the wash on the towel and began to vigorously scrub her body. She scrubbed and scrubbed making sure to get every inch of her body. Isabel scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw. Tears pricked at Isabel's eyes as she looked down at the red skin that made the green and yellow bruises around her wrists stand out. Biting her lip to stop herself from crying Isabel rinsed out the towel and shut off the shower. Carefully she stepped out and picked up the towels Scarecrow had given her. She dried herself off quickly and wrapped her hair up in one of the towels.

The bathroom was steamy from her shower and the mirror was fogged over. With her hand, Isabel wiped cleared the mirror and looked at her reflection. Her dark brown eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red while sickening green bruises marred her nose and her right cheek. Gingerly Isabel touched the bruises, they didn't hurt as much as they had a couple of days ago and hopefully, within a few more days they would be gone completely. Isabel shivered slightly as the temperature in the room began to drop and reached for her clothes. They reeked of sweat and dirt, Isabel eyed them with disgust and then her gaze wandered over to the tub. She doubted Scarecrow had a change of clothes for her and she didn't want to put them on like this.

Turning the water back on and pulling the lever to make it run out of the faucet Isabel got down on her hands and knees and began to wash her clothes. She used the body wash as detergent and when she was satisfied that her clothes were wearable once more she began ringing them out until they were only slightly damp. Pulling on her rather stretched clothes Isabel let her hair down from the towel. She had no idea how much time was left she must have spent at least thirty minutes in the shower and another fifteen or so washing her clothes.

Isabel pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. Swallowing hard to steady her nerves Isabel opened the door slowly. It creaked as she did so and she winced stopping quickly. Heart pounding in her ears Isabel listened but still, no sound was heard from beyond. Sucking in her stomach Isabel slipped through the crack of the door and out into the hall. The quiet that she had heard from inside of the bathroom now seemed to press down on her. Every movement she made created sound and she was sure the Scarecrow would appear behind her at any second. She was coming up on a door now. Isabel pressed herself to the wall and peered around the doorframe.

A single lamp shone in the darkness of the room illuminating a book opened on the desk. To the right of the book was a pen and to the left. The breath caught in Isabel's throat. A burlap mask was crumpled on the desk. Her eye's flitted down the hall to make sure no one was there before she slipped inside. Cautiously she approached the desk blind to everything else in the room. Standing over the desk Isabel's hands ghosted over the mask but she did not touch it. To touch it, she thought, would somehow be blasphemy, a violation of privacy too great even with what he had done to her.

Her hand moved away from the mask that seemed to stare into her soul even with its empty eyes instead she turned her attention to the book. It was a journal but the current pages were blank, through the paper though she could see the writing on the previous page. Isabel ran a finger along the edge of the book and gingerly lifted turned the page back.

"What are you doing?" Isabel gasped and turned around quickly gripping onto the table for support. Scarecrow was standing in the doorway the light from the hallway behind him shadowing his features.

"I-I-I was j-just looking, I-I wasn't t-trying to escape. I—"

"Quiet." He said taking a few steps into the room shutting the door behind him so Isabel could no longer see his figure. Even without being able to see him she could feel his eyes scanning her before giving a derisive snort of laughter, "you look like a drowned rat. What did you do, shower in your clothes?"

"No, but I did wash them," Isabel replied as calmly as she could while hoping her long skirt hid her shaking knees. The Scarecrow took a few more steps forward standing on the very edge of the light so all Isabel could see of him was the faint outline of his shoulders.

"Why did you leave the bathroom?"

"You never said I couldn't." Isabel could hear the lips pull back from Scarecrow's teeth in what she hoped was a smile.

"Yes, that is true. Most would not have though they would have stayed put, or tried to escape."

"Do you hold many people hostage then?"

"No, most of the people I take are not hostages, they are test subjects."

"Because you're a scientist."

"Exactly, unfortunately, my test subjects are often too weak of mind to survive the experiments."

"Then why are you keeping me alive?"

"Why? I thought we had already established that I am keeping you as leverage over your father."

"My father already knows you have me, you don't need to keep me alive, you could kill me and he wouldn't be any the wiser."

Scarecrow chuckled cruelly, "yes, I suppose that is correct, I do not have to keep you alive any longer. Do you want me to kill you?"

"No."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I don't know. Reassurance I would guess, that you haven't let me take a shower as a last kind gesture before you blow my brains out."

"Shooting someone is too inelegant if I were to kill you I would torture you until your mind melted and you were too lost in your own pain that you could not even beg for mercy, but do not worry I will not kill you unless your father makes me."

"What are you going to do to me then? Are you just going to lock me away again, Rapunzel in her tower?"

"Perhaps, I have never had such a long term  _ guest _ before so it would be the easiest way to deal with you. It would be a waste though, seeing how I do find you tolerable and those people are so rare."

"How do you know you find me tolerable? This is the first time we've really spoken."

"Are you sure of that?" Isabel stood there lost for words had she met him before? No, it was impossible, there was no way she had met this man, this monster before. Unless…no, it couldn't be Stephen was kind and awkward he wasn't this beast, he couldn't be.

"Step into the light let me see you." The Scarecrow obliged and, for the first time in her life, Isabel fainted.


	5. A Truth Revealed

Isabel was warm and comfortable. She sat up stretching as she did so, she felt great, though she did have a disturbing dream.

"So you are finally awake." Isabel froze her muscles tensing up. It hadn't been a dream. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked at the man in the chair across from her. His fingers were steepled under his chin and his ice-blue eyes were staring at her, he wasn't wearing the mask and, in the light, there was no doubt who he was.

"Mr. Irving…Stephen…why?"

"Stephen Irving does not exist," the man said leaning forward in his chair, "I am Dr. Jonathan Crane. As for why…I wanted to see what you were like before I took you, also I do love books and you gave such a perfect way in I could not resist."

"I see…will the check go through?"

"You are a thousand miles from home and you are still concerned about your library, interesting. No, the check will not go through."

"Excellent, I'm being held hostage  _ and _ my library is going to fail, anything else?"

"I believe I ran over your cat."

"I don't have a cat."

"Then, no."

Isabel stared at the wall in front of her, her mind slowly processing what he had said. Was that supposed to be some kind of joke? The corner of her mouth twitched and before she could stop herself she was laughing. It was a burst of desperate laughter, tears began to fall from her eyes as she laughed and laughed. He didn't move while she suffered her small breakdown, he just watched her, legs crossed, amusement dancing behind his eyes. Eventually, Isabel calmed herself and wiped away her tears streaks from her face.

She looked at Stephen—no—Jonathan Crane her mind in conflict trying to reconcile how the sweet Mr. Irving had turned out to be this cruel monster. He said he wanted to keep in contact, was this what he meant? Kidnapping her or was he really going to keep in contact?

"If I hadn't asked to see your face…you said…as Stephen, that you wanted to keep in contact, if I didn't find out that, you know…what…?" Isabel trailed off wrapping her arms defensively around herself. Crane's smile was twisted and his eyes sparked with cruelty.

"I was going to keep in contact of course. That would have been such a fun game, comforting you after your ordeal, leading you on without you knowing who I really was. It would have been quite amusing."

Isabel's teeth clenched together. "Hilarious."

Crane laughed, "Being mad at something that did not happen is a waste if you are going to be mad at me then at least do it for something I have done." Isabel was unsure of what to say. She rubbed her arms and looked away from Crane who was staring her down intensely.

"So," Crane said uncrossing his legs dramatically and standing after a minute of silence. "What am I going to do with you?" Isabel rubbed her arms again and shifted on the couch uncomfortably. "No comment? Well, I guess I will just lock you back in the ro—"

"No!" Isabel shouted in panic. "Please, no. I'm going insane in that room, please Ste—Dr. Crane."

"Oh?" Crane said raising an eyebrow. "Going insane? Well if that's the case…beg."

"What?" Isabel asked unbelievingly, looking up at Crane.

"Beg. If you do not want to be locked up again, get on your knees and beg." Crane's eyes burrowed into hers they were cold, hard, and serious. Isabel slid off the couch and on to her knees. She looked down at Crane's feet unable to keep looking him in the eyes.

"P-please," she near whispered.

"Louder."

"Please."

"Please, what?"

"Please, don't lock me up again."

"You do not sound very convincing," Dr. Crane said taking a set of keys from his pocket and rattling them menacingly.

"No!" Isabel cried panicking again, "Please, Dr. Crane, no, don't, don't, please…" She trailed off as tears began pouring from her eyes.

"Excellent," Crane declared turning on his heels and sitting back down in the chair. Isabel looked up at him rubbing away the tears with the back of her hand. "You may sit."

Her heart pounding in her chest Isabel slid back up onto the couch. In the chair, Crane was smirking. "I believe these will make suitable chambers for you now," he said gesturing around the room. "Bedroom, bathroom, and living room that should be enough, the door to the hall will still be locked but you will have free range to move between the rooms."

"Th-thank you," Isabel said smiling lightly in relief.

"I should find some use for you though," Crane tapped the tips of his fingers against the arm of the chair. "Ah, I know books."

Isabel perked up at that blessed word and she stared at Crane like a dog at a treat in its owner's hand. The constant observer Crane was he noticed Isabel's attentiveness and smirked.

"I have quite a few old books, a lot of them have fallen into disrepair over the years, usually I would fix them myself but my experiments have kept me too busy. You will repair the books for me."

"I can do that." Isabel tried to hide her elation at being allowed access to books but it shone through her eyes.

"Excellent." Crane looked down in his wristwatch. "Time does fly; well I must get back to my research." He stood stretching slightly.

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot." Bending over Crane took something from a bag by his chair. "Here." He tossed something on to the cushion next to her. Isabel looked over as Crane began to walk away. It was a change of clothes.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane." Isabel heard Crane's footsteps cease for a few seconds before he 'tch'-ed in disgust and left, locking the door behind him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Thank you," Jonathan muttered under his breath as he locked the door. "Thank you?"

That idiotic girl, what was she doing thanking him? He had kidnapped her, locked her away, and threatened her and her father. Thank you should be the last two words to cross her lips. That was interesting though. Jonathan slipped his press-book out of his breast pocket and scribbled a note inside. Tucking the notebook away he made the short journey back to the apartment he was currently inhabiting.

It was the same apartment he had taken Isabel for her first meal and it was where he had allowed her to shower. His private quarters, where he didn't perform and experiments and where Batman had never found him. Sure he might have been pressing his luck bringing Isabel here but seeing how he had paid off every vagrant in a twenty block radius by supplying them with drugs he was confident he was in no danger of being ratted-out. Opening the apartment door Jonathan readied himself for an afternoon of chemical experimentation, after a nice cup of coffee of course. As he locked the door behind him though, Jonathan realized that the smell of roasting coffee beans was already in the air. There were only a few of people idiotic enough to break into his sanctuary: Joker, Harley Quinn, the Mad Hatter, and…

"Riddler."

"Hey, Jon, I made coffee."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he did not need this right now. "What do you want, Edward?"

"Want? Can I not just come to visit?" Edward asked sarcastically handing Jonathan a cup of black coffee.

"No, you cannot."

"Fine, fine, it's just that I heard something very interesting the other day..." Edward took a sip of his coffee prolonging the time he was annoying Jonathan. "…that you have a house guest, a person you aren't experimenting on, and this person is a female, a fairly attractive female to boot."

"And where exactly did you hear this information?"

"I'm not one to reveal my sources."

"It was Elizabeth then." Edward shrugged non-committedly. Of course, it was Elizabeth; he may have hired her to keep an eye on Mr. Warren but she was loyal to Edward and must have told him.

"So, is it true then?" Edward asked taking another sip of his coffee.

"Yes, as Elizabeth might have told you as well, I took the girl as leverage over her father, nothing more."

"Nothing more? I see that's why you have her in the apartment next door and not in that single room you kept upstairs, and haven't experimented on her."

"She was up there for the past week."

"So you still haven't experimented on her? Who are and what have you done to the Scarecrow?"

"Edward, despite your massive and overly exaggerated intellect you are mistaken if you believe all of my experiments need to involve my toxin. My experiments can consist of more than just raw fear and its effects there are other things I am interested in."

"Like what?"

"Stockholm syndrome."

Edward grinned and chuckled softly, "you are one sick puppy."

"If you are just realizing this now I would re-evaluate how good you believe your analytical skills to be." Chuckling again Edward set down his half-finished cup of coffee. He walked past Jonathan and unlocked the door.

"Hopefully this one turns out better than Miss Albright." Edward had already shut the door by the time Jonathan had turned around, meaning the cheap ceramic coffee cup shattered against the door instead of the Rogue's head. Jonathan sneered in displeasure. Becky Albright was not one of the things Jonathan liked to discuss. She had testified against him in court and had refused his proposal to become his Mistress of Fear. That was a miscalculation in retrospect, Jonathan had thought her to be liked him but in the end she had mocked him with her very existence. He didn't have to worry about her distracting him anymore though because despite the Dark Knights' gallant effort "plucky Becky" was currently six feet under and she had screamed and begged in the end.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Isabel ran a hand once more along the fresh clothes as she looked at herself in the cracked bathroom mirror. These were her clothes meaning once Crane had subdued her he had gone through her closet and, most embarrassingly, her panty drawer. It also appeared that he had not grabbed clothing at random either as the light purple shirt with brown flower design was matched with a brown skirt. If Crane had spent so much time picking out matching clothes for her it made her wonder what else he had gone through in the room. Had he gone through her book collection, her treasure box, and what if, and Isabel blushed furiously at the thought, he had found the electronic "feminine toy" she kept in her bedside drawer?

Of course, there was also the pressing question of why did he get a change of clothes for her? Why didn't he just leave her locked up in that room until her father had finished whatever god-forsaken thing he was working on? Isabel rubbed her temples; she was starting to develop a headache from the stress. Leaving the bathroom Isabel decided to examine the other rooms. The room she had woken up in was the living room it was barren of all decoration except for the ratted stained couch, the sunken armchair, and a small standing lamp that provided the majority of the light in the room as the windows were boarded up. There seemed to be a door that led from the living room but it was boarded up. Isabel assumed that the door led to the kitchen as the kitchen was not to be found anywhere else. Down the hall from the living room was the bathroom and after that the bedroom.

The floorboards creaked as Isabel walked into the bedroom. This room was a lot better than the previous room she had been kept in. It was about 12 by 10 feet with a single bed pushed up against the wall. On the bed was a plush comforter with the corner tucked under the mattress and two rather thick pillows. Isabel smiled as she sat down on the bed. This was nice. She ran her fingers along the light blue cotton cover and then flopped down onto her side. Oh yes, this was definitely better. Isabel rolled onto her back kicking off her shoes and closed her eyes for a nap.

When Isabel woke no sunlight shone through the cracks in the boarded-up window. She sat up stretching and her shoulders popped satisfactorily. Isabel stood and left the bedroom to relieve herself. Before today she had never understood the luxury of toilets but now after doing her business in a bucket for a week she realized why they were dubbed thrones. Flushing the toilet Isabel briefly wondered how, what appeared to be, an abandoned building was receiving water; but then again it didn't really matter to her as long as she could keep her new luxury. Leaving the bathroom Isabel went into the living room.

The first thing Isabel noticed was that someone had turned the lamp on flooding the room with soft yellow light, the second thing was that sitting on the coffee table was a tray of food and a pile of books, and the final thing she saw was a note sticking out from under the plate. She picked up the glass of water on the tray and took a long sip of the warm water. The tray must have been sitting out for a while as the water Crane usually gave her was cold. Sitting down on the couch Isabel slid the paper out from under the plate. The note was written in the same script-style writing as the note she had found on the first day.

_ 'I see you have already made yourself comfortable, good I want you to feel at home you will be here a while after all. Remember though that I have granted you this comfort and it can be taken away. _

_ I would like you to start with these books here, when you are finished with a book put it by the door. If I did not know that you would already feel free to read them as well, just do not forget to mend them.' _

Isabel set down the letter. She ran a finger along the spine of the topmost book, "Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet", trying to contain her joy at the feel of the hard leather cover. Picking up the tray of food she went into the bedroom, it was best she keep her distance until she was ready to work on the books, they were less of a distraction that way. Sitting down on the bed Isabel ate her room temperature meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is the OC from another story of mine on fanfiction.net and she is paired with the Riddler. Crane trusts her enough to watch Mr. Warren because she a generally loyal person to whoever hires her (though as stated her first loyalty is to Edward) and he has hired her in the past.


	6. Tolerable Talking

Isabel was on the floor cautiously handling the delicate book in her hands. Its deep red cover was hanging on to the spine by mere threads. Slowly Isabel raised her scissors and cut the remaining threads. Now with the cover removed she pulled the stray strings from out of the cover and picked up her needle. Carefully leveling the pages Isabel ran the needle through the cotton paper just deep enough to bind them together. When that task was complete she picked up the cover and placed the pages inside, good it still fit properly. Placing the book on the floor Isabel retrieved the jar of adhesive. With the steadiest hand, she could muster Isabel brushed a thin and even layer of glue onto the inside of the spine. Quickly, before the glue dried, she pressed the pages against the binding and wrapped the book tightly in string to hold it in place.

Isabel smiled softly and set the book down on top of the two other books that she had repaired in the same manner. She began humming as she retrieved another book from the pile. Suddenly the door opened causing her to gasp lightly as the movement and noise broke her restful focus.

"Good morning," Isabel said cheerfully as Dr. Crane stepped into the room. He halted in surprise and one of his thin eyebrows lifted with intrigue.

"Morning," he finally replied setting the tray of food down on the coffee table. "You seem to have gotten a lot done, have you been working long?"

Isabel tilted her head up thinking, "I believe I've been up all night, at least I think so, I have no idea when I woke up. Most of the night then."

"You must be tired." Crane said picking up the tray from last night.

"Not really, you look tired though."

"Being a genius means a lot of sleepless nights," Crane responded immediately.

"That must be nice."

"Insomnia must be nice?"

"No, being a genius."

"It has its high points unfortunately when one is a genius one is often misunderstood."

"That's a cliché," Isabel said moving from the floor onto the couch where she was slightly more equal with Crane.

"A misunderstood genius may be a cliché but intelligence often frightens people and those who know how to use their intelligence even more so."

"I've always found people to be more jealous of intellect than afraid of it." A smirk crossed Crane's lips and he set the tray back down.

"You are correct they are jealous but their jealousy is just an expression of their fear. You see intellect is knowledge and knowledge is power, people fear those who have more power than them and they want to have power over others. That is why they are jealous."

"Then all of Gotham must be jealous of you."

"Most of Gotham is too idiotic to recognize my genius but they have learned the proper fear of me."

"How? You must be one of those costumed criminals I've heard about, but I've never heard of you. What have you done to the city to make them fear you?"

Crane's lips curved up in a smile, "What haven't I done is a better question."

"I'd like to hear."

"You'd like to hear my story?"

"Yes, I feel rather bad that I haven't heard of you before, I would like to hear what you've done." Isabel smiled softly. She was genuinely interested in what Crane had done, not because she felt bad but because hopefully, it would tell her what she could expect from him. He said that he wasn't going to hurt her unless her father displeased him yet somehow she didn't believe that. Crane was obviously intelligent and she didn't trust that he didn't have something planned for her. The clothes, the access to books, why would he give them to her? She had thought about it while she had worked but she didn't know enough about Crane to come up with a conclusion, perhaps knowing his crimes would help with that.

"I'll have to sit it is quite the tale." He settled down in the chair he had occupied yesterday. "Let's see…Gotham City University, that's where it began, I was a professor of psychology and I was conducting my research on the undergrads. They were receiving credit for their work with me and the effects of the gas were far less permanent than they are now, there was nothing unethical with my research everyone gave consent but the College Board misunderstood the strides I was making and they fired me. The fools didn't realize what they were unleashing. Free from the bonds of employment I allowed myself to pursue my experiments without interference and after a year I returned to the University to show them the fruits of my scientific labors. A fear toxin to drive them to suicide, at least it would have if Batman hadn't interfered."

"I'm sorry," Isabel said softly, "but Batman is real?"

The surprise on Crane's face was obvious, "of course. As I was saying, Batman interfered and brought me to Arkham Asylum. Little did I know though is that Arkham would be the place of my enlightenment. It was there that I realized that it wasn't only the College Board who needed to be taught the power of fear but all of Gotham. From the idiotic doctors who pawed at my psyche like a cat against glass to the men working two jobs to keep bread on the table and all the sheep in between, they had to be educated on the driving force of life: fear."

Isabel bit her lip she wanted to interrupt again. She wanted to ask him how fear was the driving force of life but at the same time she had already interrupted once and Isabel didn't think he would take kindly to it again.

"Thus I began my work anew. Escaping the Asylum I have…" Crane's eyes flashed up towards the ceiling as he counted on his fingers. "Oh dear it is quite the list I'll just summarize then, poisoned the water main, twice, gassed several public buildings, and spread general chaos after releasing my toxin through the Gotham streets, not to mention all of the test subjects I have taken to improve my formula. That is how Gotham has learned to fear me, through practice." Crane smiled broadly his small teeth showing for the first time.

"It seems like you get around, what are you…never mind."

"What am I planning this time?" Crane said finishing her question. Isabel nodded and he wagged his long bony pointer finger at her. "Now, now, I can't spoil the surprise. But I've given enough exposition it's your turn now Isabel, as Dr. Lecter said to Clarice, "quid pro quo"."

"Understandable." Isabel's shoulder muscles tightened; what would Dr. Crane want to know about her?

"What, since you seem to be so woefully uninformed about the villains and their counterparts, do you know about Gotham?"

"Alright, it's the second-largest city in America right under Metropolis; however, it is the most dangerous city in American for violent and petty crime out ranking Metropolis by miles. The crime rate has drastically reduced in the past four or five years due to the introduction of the Batman, whom until just now I believed to be a codename for a secret police force to scare criminals, not a real vigilante. Umm…what else…oh, the city's main threat comes from the madman Joker who is the leader of the so-called "Rogues Gallery", which I'm assuming you are a part of as well. Despite its crime-ridden streets Gotham is home to twenty or so fortune five hundred companies, including Wayne Industries, Ace Chemicals, and Soder-Cola, making it an excellent place for innovators and inventors to find employment."

"How very textbook," Crane said crossing his legs and leaning back into the chair, "one major thing wrong though. The Joker is not the leader of the Rogues, yes, he has the highest body-count and has conducted the most schemes, but he cannot lead what does not exist. The "Rogues Gallery" as it is so eloquently named is simply the media's way of categorizing a certain type of criminal in Gotham, another common term is costumed freaks. We might call ourselves Rogues in passing but none of us have anything in common except that we've all recreated ourselves in a new image. Examples: I, Dr. Jonathan Crane, am the Scarecrow, Edward Nygma is the Riddler, and Jervis Tetch is the Mad Hatter; there is Poison Ivy, Two-Face, Penguin, etcetera, etcetera."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know. Would you prefer me to call you Scarecrow then?"

She had never heard such a chilling laugh before. Somewhere between a cackle and a full out belly laugh the pitch and rhythm of it made Isabel's spine stiffen with apprehension. Isabel had thought the question entirely appropriate yet when Crane began to laugh she became completely unsure. Could a good question be answered with such a disturbing noise?

Finally, after what seemed like minutes the laughter stopped. "No," Crane said the amusement still etched on his face. "You don't need to call me Scarecrow Dr. Crane is fine, it has been a while since someone has called me that."

"Well then, Dr. Crane, I was wondering, what did you mean fear is the driving force of life?"

Crane's smile's widened, "Perhaps next time, I have work to do and so do you." He stood and took the empty tray. "I'll be back later Isabel, maybe then."

Out in the hall, Crane locked the door behind him. This was going better than he thought it would. Isabel was already sympathizing with him, a major step in all Stockholm syndrome cases. It was almost disappointing how easily she had given in. Perhaps the week in the room had broken her more than he thought. Crane's lips curled in a smile if he was further along in his experiment than he thought maybe he could bring the subject beyond mere Stockholm syndrome.

He chuckled again as he let himself into his quarters. Yes, that would be interesting. test. She already had the right mindset inquiring already about the power of fear. Oh, she was so innocent, bright-eyed and curious. It would be such a pleasure to see that corrupted.

The plasticware clicked softly against the tray as Isabel set it down. Her mind was turning with what Crane had told her, she was trying to processes the information she had gained. Crane was not only a doctor but he had been a professor as well, of psychology no less, if he was a psychologist Isabel was starting to doubt that she would be able to trick him into giving her information he didn't want to give. She wasn't that good at tricking people, to begin with anyway. To learn that he was a patient at Arkham though caused Isabel to shiver. Crane was legitimately insane and he was an  _ escaped _ mental patient.

If there was one other thing she knew about Gotham it was that the Arkham Asylum was the residence of the most fearsome criminals. Psychopaths, maniacs, rapists, and all other sorts were held there while doctors attempted to treat them. What kind of mental illness did Crane have? Isabel wondered. Something including narcissism as he obviously thought very highly of himself, he had called himself a god on the first day and how he talked about the poor souls who received his toxin, calling them specimens. Isabel shivered. It was so dehumanizing, perhaps Crane really was a monster. If he really was a monster though, why was he being moderately kind to her?

Isabel groaned cradling her face in her hands. There it was again. That blasted question. Why? Why was he allowing her to have this whole area to herself? Why did he indulge her questions? Why was he allowing her to fix his books and materials like needles and scissors to repair them? Perhaps Crane didn't see her as a threat. If so that was rather offensive. Why couldn't she be a threat? She was smart; she could figure a way out of here.

Instantly Isabel stopped that train of thought. No, Crane had told her that if she tried anything he would drive her father into madness with that toxin; a madness that would kill him. Crane didn't see her as a threat he had no reason too and Isabel wouldn't give him a reason. Whatever his motive was for being "kind" she shouldn't concern herself with it. All Isabel needed to do is not get in the way of anything.

Finished with her meal and, trying to distract herself from any more dangerous thoughts, Isabel picked up one of the books that she had repaired earlier. Unwrapping the string she checked her work, the binding was perfect and if it wasn't for the slight discoloration between the original cover and the thread she used to fix it you wouldn't be able to tell it had been broken in the first place. Flipping the book open with a content smile Isabel began to read.


End file.
